Daybreak
by Inked-Pawprints
Summary: "The patchwork of their life could be seen along the hallways, snapshots of memories and sepia tone love portrayed in frames that hung off the warm-colored walls. He liked it like this. The photos stood as evidence that they had found happiness, a simple feat that he treasured." / Oneshot / PruCan


He yawned widely, the sound of the old stairway creaking in greeting as he thumped downstairs, off on a mission to conquer the kitchen and shoot some caffeine through his veins. The morning drafts were ever present in the small house, but it was easy enough to fend the cold off with a warm jacket and mismatched socks.

The patchwork of their life could be seen along the hallways, snapshots of memories and sepia tone love portrayed in frames that hung off the warm-colored walls. He liked it like this. The photos stood as evidence that they had found happiness, a simple feat that he treasured. Many spent their lives searching for the notion; he had been lucky to find it in one beautiful person. And he would no sooner leave this world than leave what he had fallen for- he knew that for certain.

The tiles of the Kitchen were chilled, but not uncomfortably so; it was more of the cold that came with early mornings. Scrunching his socks, he hid them under the sweats he had grabbed in haste, protecting his toes from the rimy air. It might not be that chilled, but the feeling of warmth still appealed.

Moving to start the coffee maker, he set some water aside to warm. It was part of their routine; coffee for him, tea for the other. It was simple, and it sufficed.

The day break cast blue hazy-filled shadows into the corners, a color that spoke of the rising oranges and bright yellows soon to paint the horizon in a splash of color. He loved living in the second largest country; there was a profound beauty about the landscapes that captured his interest. He liked how it could leave one feeling melancholy or blissful just based on the hues that filled the skies. Here, the wilderness was one of an untouched artistry that spread for miles and miles, apparent in the handsome pines standing proud or in the wildflowers bursting with color in the middle of the summer's touch, collaterally thrown against the chlorophyll green of fields and meadows. It was beautiful here, in every season. It was something he treasured.

The prominent thump from upstairs signaled the rise of his favorite person who also happened to be occupying the house; more thumping and creaking was heard and short after messy blond hair appeared in the doorway, tousled and tired from the previous evening hours.

"Tea?" his voice still carried the accent of sleep; hands reached up to wipe away slumber's lingering presence from violet eyes while a yawn worked its way out into the air.

"Give me a second to let it seep; the water's already heated." He tossed a reply over his shoulder before crossing the room to enter the pantry; sweeping his eyes up and over numerous rows of goods, he found the box containing the drink in question soon enough.

"Here." Setting the steaming cup on the wooden table, he turned at the signaling beep of the machine on the darker stone counter top.

Pouring himself a mug, the aroma of rich coffee and lighter cream filled their atmosphere, and made the world a bit friendlier. He had always figured coffee to be a great invention; instant energy and satisfactory scents all in one! What was there not to love about man's favorite beverage?

A slight intonation was heard from the blond now sitting on the plush couch; he peered around to see a small frown on the other's face.

"What is it?"

"How can you drink that stuff?"

He sighed. "It's good. You just have to develop a taste for it."

"And why would I ever need to do that? Besides, doesn't it stain your teeth? And why are we even up right now?" the answer was peevish; He reasoned that the blond wasn't a morning person.

"So many questions, silly young grasshopper! First off: Coffee has its qualities, and the good ones outweigh the bad. And secondly, haven't you heard? The early birdie gets the wormie!" He grinned at the grumbling Canadian; the other stuck his tongue out in defense.

"Whatever."

"Awh, don't be like that! Why I'm up is because I like to watch the sun rise. Why you're up, I don't know. You can go back to bed, if you want."

"Nah, I'm up enough as it is. Plus, I have my tea."

"Psh, tea. As if it could ever beat coffee!"

"Oh, Shuddap, Gil."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as he went about doing morning chores and making a breakfast for the two; the light outside was still faint, a tinges of colorless pinks and faded tawny yellows slowly making their way across the sky strung with small clouds. It was peaceful. It was something he loved.

Half-finished with the dishes in the sink, he heard the taller of the two humming; he stopped his work in fascination and appreciation. The tilting tone of the melody was hauntingly familiar, nostalgic and lovely to hear, a sound meant to accompany the chords of a timeless acoustic guitar. It was beautiful.

Wiping his hands on a dishcloth, he crossed the floor with a barely audible _'shwuff'_, sock-covered feet padding across stone to rest before the man still perched on the sofa.

"You make it easy to love you." He said it with a simple, honest significance, sincere and truthful.

Canada looked at him, with the lightest touch of a smile on his features. "Thank you. You're the same."

Wrapping his fingers more tightly around the mug he had carried with him, he sat down next to the other, sinking into the furniture in comfort. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Cool."

Chuckling, Canada punched him softly in the shoulder. "The Sun's finally waking. Isn't that why you wanted to get up, anyway? Might want to go out before you miss it."

Walking back into the kitchen, he peered out the windows, glancing up at the lightening daybreak. "Indeed. D'ya want to come with me?"

Matthew nodded before rising to join him. Twisting the door handle, a blast of cold air hit the couple before receding back into the sky, the wind already passing through the brilliant green of leaves and travelling elsewhere. Shivering, he clutched the coffee tighter, the warm cup emitting a more pleasant temperature and warming his locked fingers.

The back porch's interlocking worn floorboards were bathed with the rising sun, illuminated in scintillating gold and brilliant oranges, the colors blending together with the passing minutes as dawn stretched and wove its colors into the sky. Wandering over to the railing, he leaned against the familiar balcony and tilted his face towards the sun, closing his eyes and enjoying the little heat offered by the sky against his pale complexion. A moment later, a hand gently reached for his and he took it, feeling the weight of the other lean against his side.

"It's very pretty." The words were a sigh, with a touch of sadness. Opening his eyes, he snuck a glance at Matthew. Canada's face was trifled, an expression complicated and troubled.

"Why the down look, Matt?"

Blinking in surprise, Canada contemplated him for a second. " …I'm sad?"

"Yeah."

"…I'm not sad, Prussia."

"Yes, yes you are."

"Am not!"

"Then why the face?"

Huffing in annoyance, the Canadian regarded him dolefully. "I was thinking."

"'Bout what?"

The gold-touched blond looked up at the sky, the sun catching his eyes perfectly and turning them into pools of purple and azure blue, the sunlight reflecting in the depths and captivating Prussia. Canada was so, so beautiful, exactly like the hidden secrets of his land.

" I was thinking about how I met you."

"…Oh."

"Yeah."

The sky broke as the sun rose over the surrounding evergreens, a color soaked scene thrown on a canvas of blue, the skies turning a million different shades of cerulean and pure warm tones. It was a spectrum of vivid colors, rich and gorgeous in a thousand different ways. It was _beautiful_.

"We met in hard times, didn't we?" Canada spoke in a quiet voice, only interrupted by bird calls and the breeze.

"Yeah."

They _had_ met in hard times. It was WWII, to be exact, at gunpoint and covered in muck; both drowning in despair that came with all wars and dark hours.

"You let me go."

He had looked in those same eyes and couldn't do it. There was steel there, a fighter's spirit under the grime and dirt. There had been something special, something irreplaceable, and he couldn't, _wouldn't_, pull the trigger. It had been too much, with those hard violet eyes glaring up at him, challenging and cold. It would have been a sin to kill a person like him.

"I did."

They had regarded each other in a tense silence, eyes flickering over rags of a uniform, riddled with bullet holes and coated in layers of grime, colors of the clothes almost lost to the dark smudges and red occasionally dripping from wounds that should have been fatal.

"Why?"

He looked to the side, gazing at the man beside him. "Because I fell in love."

Canada looked up at him incredulously. "You fell in love with me then and _there_?"

"Well, yeah."

"What…how…!"

Prussia shrugged, and let his eyes wander back to the sunrise, still so resplendent and radiant. "I think I fell in love with you because I saw you when we were both at our lowest. And I found that even in the dark, you were still capable of loving. You would have died protecting thought was right, what you believed in. I fell in love with your spirit, your courage, your ability to look death in the face and say 'I'm not afraid'. It's not often you find someone like that."

Canada was silent.

He went on. "And then, when the war ended, after I was dissolved, there was a void in my life. What used to be mine was now someone else's, and the silent agony that accompanied and stole at my thoughts was paralyzing. But in those moments, I remembered how you had looked, facing the end. And I was amazed that someone could be so selfless."

"You were stunning. You left an impression on me that has never left. And every day, you never cease to keep my interest; you make my life worth living." Finished with his rambling explanation, he gauged the expression on Canada's face.

He paused, feeling uncertain. Matthew had buried his face in the sleeves of his hoodie and was still; it was like waiting for the calm before the rumbling storm.

"…you're not crying, are you?"

At the question, Matthew whipped his head up, and then Prussia realized why Canada had been acting strange.

"I'm not crying!"

Prussia burst out laughing. "Oh, my God, Matt, you should see your face!"

The blushing Canadian smacked him hard on the arm; he continued to snicker, the sound of amusement filling the atmosphere around the two with mirth. "I swear, Matt, it's the cutest thing!"

Canada smacked him again, face burning. "Shut up, Gilbert!"

Grinning, Prussia leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the nose. "Okay, okay, I'll stop now."

"Thank God."

"You _are_ adorable, though."

"Gilbert."

He sighed in defeat at the stern tone, and shifted his feet to get more comfortable. "Hey, Matt?"

"What."

"You're awesome, you know that?"

Laughing, Matthew bumped him before answering. "You idiot."

Tugging on his shirtsleeve, Prussia took Canada's hands in his own. "But I'm your idiot, right?"

Matthew smiled and kissed him. "Yeah, you're mine alright."

He tugged the blond closer, wrapping his arms around the taller and kissing him silly until they both were breathless.

"I love you." He rested his head on his love's shoulders, nuzzling into Matthew's neck and inhaling the perfect scent. He loved him with all he had, and knew he would never leave him. Matthew was his life, his reason for waking up in the mornings. He was his happiness.

"I love you too, Prussia. Always have, always will."


End file.
